Rewriting History
by bean15
Summary: Prequel to In Trouble Again. Before Wilbur met Emily, but not a whole heck of a lot before. Wilbur's failing history. No surprise. The real surprise is how long is takes him to realize he can use the time machine to study for his final! Chaos ensues. R&R!
1. Chapter 1

**What's up everybody? Thought I'd change up my greeting, just to shake things up. **

**Wilbur: (spinning in circles) Could you stop shaking things up? Please? It's making me dizzy!**

**Me: Okay, love. Just because you asked so nicely. **

**Wilbur: Whew. Glad that's over. **

**This is a new story. Still MTR, obviously. I just can't get enough of that crazy (but extremely loveable) family! I will go back to my others, never fear. But I'm having a little "toe jam of the brain" right now. Aka…writer's block. If you don't get it, ask Robin. I know what I want, but I don't know how to write it. **

**This is sort of a prequel to In Trouble Again. Before Wilbur meets Emily. Got that, Wilbur?**

**Wilbur: Aw, you mean I won't get any romantic stuff in this story?**

**Me: I didn't say that……**

**Wilbur: But I don't want to be with somebody else! I wanna be with you! I- I mean, I wanna be with your OC. Who really is sort of you. **

**Me: Just be calm, chillax, and enjoy the story. I promise you won't be disappointed. **

**Wilbur: Okay. Good enough for me. (kisses her on the cheek)**

**Random Fact: In its history, England has had 6 kings named George. **

**Chapter 1!!!!!!!!**

Wilbur sat at his desk over his history homework, banging is head repeatedly on his desk in frustration. His history homework sat on his desk, unfinished, next to his last history test. The test was practically drowning in red. This was the sixth test like it.

His friends, if he could call them that, teased him. They told him that the mechanical graders would run out of ink every time Wilbur took a history test.

He was banging his head against his desk because his history final was tomorrow. He was failing the class. When his parents had been called in for a conference and had been told their son was failing, they had come home in silence. Franny had hugged him. Cornelius put his hand on Wilbur's shoulder, bur had withdrawn it quickly. That was the worst for Wilbur. He felt that his father had lost faith in him.

Wilbur had been trying to raise his history grade for weeks. He was also almost failing algebra, and he was terrified, not that he'd ever admit it, of losing his father's respect. He resumed pounding his head against his desk in humiliation and frustration. He wished he could go back in time and study everything on his old tests before he took them. But that was unethical. That was cheating. Completely and totally cheating.

_But_, he thought, _what if I took the time machine and went to study everything on the final? _He hadn't seen the final. That would be okay. That wasn't unethical. That would be okay. He could do that.

He stopped pounding his head and pulled out a list of what to study from his teach-screen and pack.

_1450 – 1550 Renaissance, Italy_

_Late 1500's – Shakespeare theatre, England_

_1720's – 1750's The golden age of Pirates, Caribbean_

_1776 – 1789 American Revolution and early USA_

_1850 – 1865 Antebellum and Civil War, USA_

_1890 – 1910 Age of the Muckrakers, USA_

_1920's – The roaring twenties, Chicago, USA_

_1960's – Jim Crow laws and segregation, Baltimore, USA_

_July 20, 1969 – Landed on the Moon, Houston, Texas, USA_

Wilbur groaned. It was a long list. He knew, thanks to the nature of time travel, that he could be back in 2037 ten seconds after he left. For everyone else, his trip would take no time at all, but for him it would probably take weeks.

He smiled a little at the seemingly random choice of material, but that was so like his teacher, Ms. Brown. She'd been teaching for years, never married, and although the course was US History, she'd always taught other eras as well, completely disregarding curriculum requirements. Taking a class from Ms. Brown was certainly…interesting.

He jumped up, list in hand, and he took the travel tubes down into the garage. Perfect. His father was still in the lab, and that was all Wilbur needed. Ten seconds. He looked down at his watch. October 30, 2037. 4:37 in the afternoon.

He jumped into the red time machine and set the date for 1467. He figured that going in order was probably a smart thing to do. He looked over his right shoulder at the world map his father had installed in both time machines. His fingers roamed the map until they found Italy. He lightly touched the country, and it lit up. He used the remote control to open the garage roof, and soared out. He just had to hope that no one was watching the windows. He was lucky. No one was. With that, and the hope of regaining his father's respect, he soared off into the unknown.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey everyone!**

**Random fact: Every year, the Miriam-Webster Dictionary adds two words to the new edition. The 145****th**** edition has "bootylicious" and "muggle."**

**Chapter 2!!!!!!!**

Wilbur was thrown back a little in his seat at the time machine entered 1467. He looked around, his mouth agape. So this was the Renaissance! No wonder Ms. Brown had fallen in love with it. The city beneath him teemed with people and vibrant life, a powerful mix of energy and commotion. "Wow," he said. He caught someone staring at him. "Whoops! I'd better turn on the invisibility shield. Dad'll get pretty angry with me if I alter history."

He looked down on the street again. He smiled. He flew the time machine over the street to a small alley, and parked it. This alley was a dad end; no one would be coming down here. As Wilbur looked at all the people rushing around, he realized he had a problem. He wasn't wearing the right clothes. Oh well. He'd burn that bridge when he got to it.

He stepped out of the time machine, taking careful note of where it was, and the buildings around it. He'd have to remember where it was, or he'd never get home.

Wilbur walked down the alley, but only a few steps. He wasn't watching where he was going, and he had bumped into someone.

"Guardare dove lei va goffo! Chi sono voi? Da dove siete venuto? Perchè siete qui? Venuto, parli! Rispondami!"

Wilbur's mouth dropped. It turned out that the someone was actually a very pretty girl about his age, she couldn't be more than seventeen. "Rispondami!" she said again. "Um…I'm sorry. I…don't speak Italian."

"Well, then, we'd better work on that, shouldn't we?" She smiled.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey everyone! Today we were allowed to dress up for Halloween, so I went to school as Wilbur!!!!!!!!!!!11 It was so fun, but only one of my friends got it without me having to explain to her who I was. **

**Tonight I'm helping to hand out treats, so I hope the little kiddies who knock on the door recognize me. At least, more than my friends. Today in English we watched Buffy the Vampire slayer. Loads of fun. We had tastycakes too!!! Even more fun. **

**The Italian in the last chapter was real, don't worry, it will be explained here. **

**Random Fact: ****Abraham Lincoln faces to the right on a penny while all the other presidents face to the left on US coins.**

**Chapter 3!!!!!!!!**

"Rispondami!" she said again. "Um…I'm sorry. I…don't speak Italian."

"Well, then, we'd better work on that, shouldn't we?" She smiled.

Wilbur's jaw dropped. "You speak English?" She laughed. "Obviously." Wilbur stuttered for a few seconds, and she let him babble. "Wha…where…I- mean, how….how did…"

She laughed again and put up a hand to stop him. "Chetare, stop, it is alright. My father is an Englishman. My mother learned the language from him. She taught it to me. I speak both English and Italian." She was right. _Although_, though Wilbur, _she does have a strong accent._ But there was something about that accent that made her even more attractive that she already was…

_Stop it!_ he told himself. He couldn't have feelings for this girl; she was born more than 500 years before him. He took a closer look at her, against his better judgment. He knew he had a weakness for pretty girls, and she was certainly pretty. She had long hair, sort of like golden honey, with blue eyes that jumped out. Her beauty contrasted sharply with her clothes. They were dirty, dingy, and looked like they were covered in paint. But that was impossible.

Wilbur rubbed his neck with the back of his hand. "Um…is that paint on your skirt?" he said nervously. "Yes. I work for a local artist, when he can find work for me. And when I am not too much in his way. Would you like to meet him? His studio is not far from this market."

Wilbur bit his lip. He wanted to, but he wasn't sure whether he wanted to meet the artist or just spend more time with this girl. He stalled for time as they walked down the alley and into the market. "What was it that you said to me when we first met?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I said to watch where you were going. I asked who you were, where you were from, and why you wouldn't answer me. I still don't know who you are. Would you tell me? Please?" She seemed genuine, and Wilbur really wanted to tell her. He gave in. "My name's Wilbur. Wilbur Robinson."

"I have never heard that name before. Where are you from, Wilbur Robinson?"

"I'm from…from England. Yeah, from England." She frowned. "I am not sure that you are telling the truth. But we will pretend that I believe you, because my instincts tell me that I can trust you, and my instincts are never wrong."

"Never?"

"Never. You must have good instincts to live on the street." Wilbur was appalled. This girl lived on the street? He thought the Renaissance was a time of wealth and rebirth. When he said this, the girl laughed. "Wealth? Maybe for some. Not for most." As she said this she was jostled by a man in an expensive-looking suit typical of Renaissance nobility. "Scusarme, signiorina," he said as he walked by, never taking his eyes off the parchment in front of his eyes.

"Who was that?" asked Wilbur. The girl shook her head. "That was Signior Cosimo de Medici. His family owns banks all across Europe. He is very wealthy." Wilbur was struck by a thought. "I still don't know your name. What is it?"

"Eleonora. It means 'child of piety.' I suppose my father chose it for a reason, but it did not really turn out to be who I am," she said as she swiftly stole two small loaves of bread from a street vendor. Wilbur's jaw gaped, but Eleonora quickly closed it with a finger. "Don't look so surprised. The vendors will notice." She saw the look in his eyes and sighed. "Do not look at me like that, please. I must steal. I know it is wrong, but it is the only way I eat."

Wilbur was dumbstruck. In this time when some were making so much money, people on the street like Eleonora and her mother were starving. "Doesn't your father work or get money for you?" Eleonora darkened. "My father…left many years ago. I have not heard from him since I was ten years old." Wilbur bit his lip and gently took her swinging hand in his. He gave it a gentle squeeze.

The look on Eleonora's face softened. "Thank you. Ah, here we are, Signior da Vinci's studio." She was desperate to change the subject, for she felt herself blushing. Wilbur stopped dead. "Did you say da Vinci?"

"Yes. You have heard of him?"

Wilbur's head was reeling. He was actually going to meet the famous Leonardo da Vinci himself! What a trip!

They walked up the stairs together and eleonora knocked on the plain wooden door of the upstairs room. "Entrato per favore."

Wilbur stood still, unsure of what to do. Eleonora smiled at him. "That means come in." Wilbur nodded and followed her inside. He saw the old man from his history lessons sitting on a modified stool bent over a painting. He spoke. "Chi è questo giovane bello? E che cosa sta portando? Dove lo avete trovato e perchè lo avete portato qui?"

Eleonora laughed. Wilbur loved it when she laughed. She always looked so happy, and it went all the way up to her eyes. But that still didn't change the fact that he had no idea what the old man had said. "Please, Signior da Vinci, in English. This is Wilbur Robinson. He does not understand Italian."

"Well," said the old man, "We'll have to work on that, won't we?" Wilbur laughed. "That was what she said."

"She is right. You cannot come to Italy and not understand the vernacular. It is simply impractical. Now young man, This is what I said to Nora. I asked her who you were, what you were wearing, where you were from, and why she brought you here. Not that I mind visitors, I just like to have some notice."

Da Vinci looked at Wilbur's clothes. "Nora, there are some clothes in the washroom that Tolomeo left here yesterday. Wilbur can have them. They are covered in paint." He turned to Wilbur. "I'm sorry for the mess, but they are the best I can afford."

Wilbur spent the afternoon with Eleonora and da Vinci in the studio, just watching the old man paint. It was incredible. The conversation was fantastic. He learned where da Vinci got his paints, how he made his meager supply of income, and the many subjects of knowledge that the old man was surprisingly well-versed upon.

He found the old man was very much like he supposed his father would be in his old age.

Later, when Eleonora had left to ask her mother for permission to stay the night with Signior da Vinci, Wilbur had asked the old man for everything he knew about her. The old man had told him, treating him like an equal. Her life had been hard. She and her mother had little to help them survive.

Da Vinci gave Wilbur a warning. "Be kind to her heart. It has suffered much. I can tell she has feelings for you. I am an artist you know. If you plan to care for her as well, I suggest you plan to stay for a long while, perhaps forever. The one thing she cannot take more of is heartbreak." The old man had turned back to his painting. Wilbur gulped. The last thing he wanted was to cause her pain, but he couldn't stay.

At this moment, she had come back, saying that she could indeed spend the night. The old man smiled. Wilbur saw now how much he valued her company. He wanted to feel loved and needed. Eleonora made his life important. And that was why the old man loved her, and tolerated her wild imagination, and her mood swings, and helped her and her mother as much as he could.

Wilbur smiled. That was why Eleonora was special. She made everyone around her feel needed.

Eleonora and Wilbur were lying on the floor of da Vinci's studio. Eleonora was asleep, but Wilbur was wide awake. He had to go, but he didn't want to simply disappear. He took a deep breath, and shook Eleonora. She woke up quickly, and Wilbur whispered, "Can you take me back to the place where we first met?" She was confused, but she saw the urgency in his eyes and nodded.

They quietly made their way through the streets of Florence, now dark and melancholy, so different from the way they had been before.

When they reached the alley, Eleonora took his wrist and held it tight. "I do not understand what is happening Wilbur, but I want to. Please tell me. Why did you need to come back here? And Why now?"

Wilbur took a deep breath. "This isn't easy for me."

"Wilbur, you are scaring me. That is what my father said before he left."

Wilbur bit his lip. Eleonora's eyes widened. "You are leaving! You are! I do not believe this!"

"Please, eleonora, this isn't what it looks like! I don't want to leave you-"

"But you are still leaving! Of course, you don't want to leave me…then don't leave!"

"it's not that simple. I'm…" _well, _he thought,_ might as well say the whole thing._ "I'm from the future. I have to go home." Apparently this was the wrong thing to say, even if it was true.

"Che cosa? Dal futuro? Quello è rediculous. Lete trovandosi. Siete un liar e una frode! Dovevo stupido fidarselo mai!"

Wilbur didn't speak Italian, but he did recognize some words. "I'm not lying, it's true! I really am from the future. Where did you think I got my clothes from? How do you think I really got here?"

"I don't know, but I don't want to know anymore! I never want to see you again!" She turned to run, but Wilbur caught her wrist in time. He pulled her back to him, and gasped when he saw the tears in her eyes. He pulled her close into a loving embrace. "I'm so sorry. I never meant to hurt you," he whispered. She stopped fighting, and threw her arms around him.

"Wilbur, I…" Then she shoved him away. She had remembered that she was angry with him.

Wilbur sighed. "Will you believe me if I can prove it to you?" She frowned, but didn't run. He took tat as a yes, and powered up the time machine, turning off the invisibility shield. She gasped, and put her hands to her mouth. Wilbur smiled. "It's okay. You can touch it. Come here," he said and took her hand. She went up to the time machine and ran her hands over it.

"Oh, Wilbur. I'm so sorry I yelled at you." She hung her head. "Can you ever forgive me?" He tilted her head up again, only to see more tears. He gently wiped them away with his thumb. "Please don't cry. Of course I forgive you." He held her close and stroked her hair.

"But I have to go back."

"Why?"

"My family…" Eleonora nodded. "Say no more. I understand."

Wilbur opened his mouth to say something, but she placed one delicate finger on his lips. "Shhh. It is alright. I understand. Family is the most important. I should know."

Wilbur sighed. "I'll miss you."

She held him close. "I will miss you too. Ti amo, Wilbur Robinson. Ti amo."

They let go, and he climbed into the time machine. He started up the machine, and as he was closing the hatch, he asked her one more question. "Eleonora, what does 'ti amo' mean?"

She paused, then said, "I love you."

Wilbur down at her from inside the time machine, and tried to say something back, but the hatch had closed. In moments, the time machine had taken off and disappeared into the future.

Eleonora had seen Wilbur's face. He had tried to tell her something, but she hadn't heard the words. But it was alright. She had read his lips. He had said, "I love you too." She started to make her way back to Signior da Vinci's, knowing that Wilbur loved her. That was enough.

Wilbur watched Eleonora until she disappeared into the time stream and the streets of Florence became the roiling Caribbean seas of the 1720's.

The golden age of the pirates that roamed the ocean. Wilbur wondered how long it would be before he happened upon a ship.

Out of the gloom of the storm he had traveled into, he saw an enormous three-masted ship emerge out of the gloom. The upper-most mast had a flag that was caught by the wind so much is was practically flat. It was a skull and crossbones. A pirate ship.

He'd run into them sooner than he thought. Much sooner.

**Dun dun dun!!! Stay tuned for more folks! And R&R!!!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey everyone!!! Sorry I haven't updated in forever…3 projects due on the same day!!! (which I really should be doing right now…screw it. I'd rather update.)**

**Chapter 4!!!**

Wilbur made to swerve the time machine before the pirate ship saw him, but it was too late. He had been seen; he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt when a cannonball flew past the time machine and nearly knocked off a wing.

"Whoa!" Wilbur swerved out of the way and his study guide fluttered to the floor. The next cannonball smashed into the clear hull of the time machine. Thank goodness Cornelius had made it nearly indestructible. Wilbur was still thrown to the floor and wound up staring at his study guide.

Abruptly, Wilbur realized that he was in the wrong time period. He should have been in the late 1500's, not here in this storm being attacked by a pirate galleon.

He frantically punched in the right date and punched England on the map. The time machine blasted off and flew into the Elizabethan Age, leaving the captain of the pirate galleon very confused.

As soon as he had fully materialized, Wilbur hurriedly turned on the invisibility shield. He had learned form Italy. Italy. Italy brought back memories, and Eleonora.

Eleonora.

Just the memory of her caused his eyes to prick with tears. He missed her so much. Maybe he should go back and see her one more time…No. He couldn't. it was too dangerous. He breathed out heavily. Maybe this whole living-through-history-to-study-it thing wasn't such a great idea after all.

But this was the only way he could learn everything in time for the final. He shook his head to clear his thoughts and absent-mindedly wiped his eyes. He brought his hand away from his face to find it wet with tears. He steeled himself and reminded himself that he didn't cry. Wilbur Robinson did not cry.

He landed the time machine near what looked like an old theatre. Now it would be easier to find. He jumped out and began to walk down a small alleyway that was, for some reason, peppered with red flags.

He warily walked down the alley, knowing that his Italian clothes were strange to these people. He'd have to find new ones soon. He hoped nothing too bad would happen to him.

A girl peeked her head out from an old wooden door. She saw Wilbur's semi-fine clothes and handsome figure and smiled. This was rent money.

She snuck up behind him and grabbed his wrist. "'Ello there, 'andsome." she said.

"Umm……hi?"

She smiled again. Mischievously this time. "Wot's a 'andsome snip like you doin' out 'ere? Lookin' for a…bite to eat?" She put her hands provocatively on his shoulders and squeezed. Wilbur nervously backed up away from this girl. She was making him very nervous.

Even though Wilbur was backing away, she kept coming. Wilbur felt himself bit the brick wall behind him, but she didn't stop. On the contrary, she appeared glad that Wilbur had no escape.

"Come 'ere, luv," she said, still holding his shoulders. "Don' cha wanna have a lit'le fun? I could…make meself available fer _anything_ you want." She pushed Wilbur up against the wall, holding his shoulders still and making sure he couldn't get away from her.

Wilbur was unfamiliar with sixteenth century England, but he was still human, and knew very well what this girl wanted from him. He also knew that there was no way in heaven or hell that he was going to give it to her.

The girl took advantage of Wilbur's temporary distraction and pushed herself on him and kissed him. "Mmmmph! Mmm mmm mmmmph!" Wilbur struggled to get away from her, but her arms held him tight against the wall, and her lips pressed against his kept him from crying out. "Mmmmph!"

"Sarah! What _are_ you doing to that poor boy?"

Sarah stopped kissing Wilbur momentarily and he drew in a huge breath. "I'm just havin' a lit'le fun. And getting' me some rent money is all. Wot's it to you?'

"Sarah, you know very well what it is to me. I told you not to come live here. And I don't think this particular boy is very willing to engage in your kind of 'fun,' as you call it."

"No, I'm-" Wilbur began, but was cut off by Sarah's hand being pressed over his mouth.

"He's fine."

"Mmmmph!"

"Oh, Eliza, you know hoe Spider is, if we girls give it out, the gent's got to pay for it. Whether he wanted it or not. And I need money. 'E said e's gonna chuck me out if I don't give 'im somethin'. Or worse, take my pay for a month."

"I do know how he is. That is why I warned you not to come here. Now you have, you'll never manage to get yourself out." Eliza looked at Wilbur. "Sarah, let him go, please." She opened her purse and gave Sarah money. "Here. For this month. But don't expect it again."

Sarah took her hand off Wilbur's mouth and took the money, shoving it down the neckline of her dress. "Sorry," she said. She seemed sincere. "Yeah….um…I…have to go."

"Wait," said Eliza. "Please, you look lost. Let me help you. You don't seem to be from here, can I direct you somewhere?" She was right. Wilbur realized he was missing yet another crucial element. He had no accent. And Eliza seemed trustworthy. At least, she wouldn't shove him up against a wall and kiss him to death.

"Please, let me help you."

"All right," he said, and allowed himself to walk the few steps over to her. She extended her hand in greeting, and Wilbur took it in his own and kissed it. It seemed like to proper thing to do. Eliza blushed, and thanked him. Wilbur looked up at her for the first time and gasped.

She looked just like Eleonora.


End file.
